Good Job!

sometimes
all it takes
is the freedom
to get some things
off your chest,
out of your head…right?
you’re able to breath freer
see clearer
unclogged and open
thoughts smoking
eucalyptus
as your tongue cools
from the tasty sensation of words
floating on peppermint patties.
makes all the difference
in the world, huh?

cool. 
i’m glad you found a way
to rip all those words
off your chest.
not only do you feel better,
you look better too.
good job!

now, i have to go.
return to my
regularly scheduled program
of carefully removing
the shards of your words
lodged deep in my heart.

if i don’t
there’ll be no more room
for next time,
right?
good job!

© 2010. ashe.selah

More!…Said I Need

I could use a little more of this.  Wouldn’t hurt a thing, you know?

More growth and accomplishments in my craft as a writer.  More words to add to my novel’s first draft. (Though I topped 50K, I’m probably only halfway finish with the real first draft before the major chopping begins).  More discipline and just-do-itness…enough to not wait till someone calls a Nano for me to get serious about cranking those words outta me.  (But I gotta say, I am so grateful for this kick in the butt contest). 

Need I say “more”?  More love and patience from my underground fans, aka friends and family (lol) who have been anxiously awaiting my book release party for the past couple of years.  Some of them didn’t get the memo about a novel easily taking between 5 to 8 years from concept to hit the shelves.  Less than 5 is the goal, but all I can say right now is that I’m much “more” closer  to “The End” than I was a month ago *wink*. 

Ok, enough “more”.  So.  It’s twelve days into December, the month for editing, and I have not opened my draft since Nov.30.  Frankly, I needed to put it down for a minute, let the story simmer, my characters bake, and my fingers rest.  Nano was no joke!  But as I’ve been sleeping, eating, and thinking about the story, I think I’m ready to get back to the grind.  Heck, I’m interested in knowing how things are going to end up, transition.  At the 50K chapter, my protag was just about to do some soul searching and see the light on a few things..and then all hell breaks loose.  Feels like that steep incline just before the climax, and I’ve gotta deliver the tension…hmm.

I think I’ll crack it open tonight.  Peek inside and take a look around like a visitor.  And then, just as the words begin to sense my presence, I’ll lure them into the sky, and see just how far this draft can fly.

Need I Say More?

So, the mad ashe.selah comeback and re-org is still on hold, while I crank out words faster than the government cut checks to Haliburton during the Iraq War.  My first ever ever NaNoWriMo is in full effect.  Last week, I was above quota.  This week, esp. having celebrated a birthday yesterday (yayah!), the newbie is down 4K words.  But that’s ok.  I’m on vacation, and I’ve got some me time to try and put a dent in 10K words by the end of the weekend.  Ooh she’s so ambitious lol!

Anywho, I’m having a ball, I think.  No, I am.  I haven’t written this many words in the two years of deciding to write a book.  There.  I said it…don’t shake your head lol.  It’s been part content, part analidity (I made that word up).  My internal editor is a wicked perfectionist, and I’ve been ruthlessly mocking her - dangling participles in front of her sneering eyes, hanging the moon in previously sun-filled scenes.  She’s going crazy, but she’ll be okay.  Like the story goes – December is for editing…that’s when I’ll let her out to play.  Right now, output is all I need to care about.

Speaking of which…back to my 17K present, in search of the 50K finish line.  Love to all, hope you’re doing well !

Mmm, mm, mm…

*shakes head*

…it’s been how long? man, what’s up with that?! A shame .

I miss this place. I miss you…yeah, the one with the eyeballs LOL! If I could get a dollar for all my posts in draft right now, I’d have a sa-weet dinner out .

But life’s stupid busy right now. Hope you’re following my random tweets (look to the right)…140 characters is all I have time to bang out sometimes, with the book taking many creative turns. Oh, and there’s also been some interesting new life angst. Let’s just put it like this…my world and ashe.selah’s world have finally collided after what?…2-3 years. Was bound to happen, right? And who didn’t have a plan for…I came, I healed, I conquered….now what? Us lol! It’ll make sense later, after I figure out whether to destroy the mask, or seal the crack.

Soooo, let’s see *laughter*. I dunno what to say, but this randomly vague thought dump feels good in here. Funny. It only takes a toe dip to make the whole body quiver, pinky toes ok. Thanks for the splash, blog friends.

Hey, did I tell ya……i miss this place. i miss U!

WIFIS: The Bridge to Nowhere Again

i created and validated the signs
long before i crossed the bridge
that brought me to you.

for miles and miles,
our paths converged in time
before Truth could no longer control the urge
to pluck my head out of the clouds.

only then could i see clearly, without barely a doubt…
we were running out of road.

“seek and you shall find”
wasn’t exactly supposed to work like this
but now in hindsight
i see the signs created and validated by Another
that it worked just perfectly fine
helping me find the path
that leads away from the bridge
that dead ends to you
all over again.

Copyright © 2009. ashe.selah

A Positively Negative Father’s Day

I think I’ve always been an overachiever.   There’s nothing I couldn’t do, and nothing you could do to convince me otherwise.  I always had to be in the know, always strived for 1st place, and for me, ninety-nine in a half just wouldn’t do.

Til this Father’s Day weekend, when my “always” met “sometimes”.

Sometimes, winning is overrated.  Sometimes, negativity is a good thing.  Sometimes, you don’t have to be on top (err lol?).  I mean really.  Who wants to pass every test?! LOL!

Since surgery last month, everything’s come back to normal.  Back on my feet, walking faster than .2 mph, voice came back, back to work, back to driving, back to intimacy….Everything came back in it’s proper time….EXCEPT *eyeballs calendar*?

I run like clockwork.  Never late in the past 11 years. Must’ve been stress from the surgery, right?  Well, umm, let’s see.  Hubby and I have been in straight up celebration lol — and with good reason.  All was benign, our worse concerns never materialized, plus, this is the year of my rebirth…I’m back with a vengeance.  I’m fresh, free, fab, fierce…in ev-er-y intricate and intimate way.  So thankful for newness in mind and spirit.  Hubby’s prayed for years for this woman to arrive, and now that she’s here…guess we both can’t get enough.

*Insert tire screech*

But weeks were passing by…no little friend lol, but enough fatigue, nausea, and panic in both of us to fill a football stadium.  Man, 40 can almost reach out and grab me…what the world?!  Lawd, please…kids in middle school now….delivery, diapers, daycare, again?  And our cute heart tat doesn’t have room for another initial lol!

OMGosh, I wish I could have been with hubby when he bought the pregnancy test (1st time ever).  He’s so cool, I know it must’ve been hard (and hilarious) for him to ask for help.  The lady told him, “Buy this one, it’s really accurate.  Don’t spend alot of money, they’re all the same.” (OK, umm, being an expert in pregnancy tests…is that a good thing lol?)

So, I’m in the bathroom, gotta big fat negative, and where’s hubby?  In the bed ’bout to throwup LOL!  I tease him, “Well, looks like you’re gonna have an even bigger Father’s Day…”  “Oh no, for real?!  Stop playin’…for real?!  OMG.”  I would have kept it going, but I burst into laughter (see, he always gets me like this with his “jokes”).  “Yeah.  Bigger.  But not because I’m pregnant…”  “Ahh man…Aye, girl…you play too much!!”  I was dying laughing…till I kept feeling super fatigued and nauseated.

After another friendless week…nerves shot (am I that 1% to receive a false negative),  light weight gain, and a doctor-administered pregnancy test scheduled for next week, we’re having a really swell Father’s Day weekend *smile*.  Ladies, I’ve never been so relieved like this to see her…like ever.

Does this call for a celebration too?!  *Rolls eyes*  “I don’t think so…”

Can’t TRUST This!

Trust is earned.  You can’t just go handing it out all willy nilly like a bowl of dinner mints.  Trust has to mean something.  It has to make sense.  Otherwise, it’s just comedy.

I don’t know where (or why) my mind started down this path…I was probably cracking a joke (#1) and came to the conclusion — nah can’t trust that lol.  And now I have this offbeat list…all for fun.  Feel free to add to it, question my motives, or second that emotion .

CAN’T TRUST THIS (Da na na na)!

1. A dentist with cavities
2. A blind gynecologist
3. Dick Chaney
4. A bank president with a 520 personal credit score
5. A pre-opened parachute
6. Cheesecake with zero transfat
7. Whoopings that hurt the parent more than the child (and I’m a parent)
8. “You’re going to feel a tiny prick”…before blood work
9. Pharmaceuticals that address 1 symptom, but “may cause heart attack, stroke, nausea, migraines, stomach ulcers, in-grown toenails, and death — only in rare cases.”
10. Single friends who tell married friends, “I wouldn’t put up with that…you oughtta leave him/her.”
11. Cops who pull over ambulances with patients
12. Hotel wake-up calls before a big meeting
13. A politician with a criminal record
14. Drinking water recycled from waste water
15. Management that passes my knowledge/work off as their own
16. A sharp shooter with one glass eye
17. A vet who’s allergic to dander
18. Financial counselors facing foreclosure
19. Mortgage loans with “no hidden fees”
20. The scale in my bathroom lol
21. A chef/cook with dirty fingernails
22. Fast talking car salesmen with wet armpits
23. E-purchasers from Nigeria using PayPal
24. Buffet bars without adequate glass shields
25. 1-ply tissue
26. {your turn}

Freedom Neophyte

I’ve watched him for years now, unnoticed…cloaked by the height and privacy of my rear deck.  Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of him while pulling into the driveway.  Other times through half-drawn blinds while rinsing a cup or bowl at the kitchen sink.   It wasn’t like I was spying the other day.  Things are just — different now.  Noticeably.  And something about him was mysterious, yet strangely familiar.  He seemed awkward, confused, almost lost, but in a drunken ecstatic sort of way, like he’d sprung a leak, and couldn’t quite keep the happy drops from squirting out.  I actually felt my heart smile for him — and I don’t even really like dogs.

His name is Redd. His former name is “the black and white dog tied up behind the house”.  He’s held that title for the past three and a half years…until last week, when our neighbors installed a fence, and let old Redd roam free.

The day I saw him, I thought he was choaking on something.  He was staggering around the fence, jerking…and then, he just fell out in the grass, rolling, tossing and turning.  And I thought…

Maybe he had never felt that patch of grass before.  Did that old, mean, rusty chain ever allow him to reach that far?  Funny.  I stood there watching him wiggle and roll, and it didn’t take long before I saw something else — Me.

Have you ever experienced any type of lock down, bondage, stronghold?  Ever been stuck on stuck?  Whether it’s a dead end job that stifled your creativity…an unhealthy relationship you wanted out of, but insanely craved more…ever had a vice, a character flaw that was sure to break you before you broke it? And then, one day, without notice or warning — Freedom arrives and sweeps you off your feet.

Man, have I been there…’bout as long as I can remember Redd and that old rusty chain.  But, thanks be to God — I am newly free.  Me and Redd lol.  Neophytes of Freedom (I’ll save maintaining freedom for another post).

I couldn’t help but wonder…if people see me, like I saw Redd that day.  “She’s different now…awkward….weird…kinda goofy happy LOL!”  Yeah, I’m rocking all of that and more.  We can share, write about a journey all day, but it’s virtually impossible for others to fully grasp its impact — if they haven’t lived it, felt it for themselves…for real.

For now, I’m enjoying this year of “reboot“, with all its challenges and lessons learned thus far (is it really June already?).  And every time I look out back and see Redd, I’ll probably smile, remembering how far we’ve come.  I don’t speak dog, Redd, but I’m happy for ya…Freedom feels so good to me too !

The Contagiousness of Triumph

I dunno….  Is Triumph a spirit?  Alive?  An energy we can feel?  Does it exhale and the sweetness of its breath intoxicates the senses, soothes every angst we have, even the ones we pretend we don’t?  Gotta have it too, cos there’s enough Triumph to go around…available without respect of person?

Well, yes to all the above for me.  I feel  it…when I read and hear your stories.  Exuberant endings after extreme struggles – Triumph!  You know the ones…stories of overcoming despite the odds, your way out when you were outta options and time, episodes of defiant survival (sometimes against your own will), your still here-ness…

I believe in miracles.  Last second shots before the buzzer.  It’s all about the familiarity of experiences.  Nothing new under the sun, right?  If you can make it, I can make it too.  I love that….esp. the vice versa.

God whispers through the words of our stories…revealing the possibilities of Triumph through small pieces of Himself at work in others.  Funny how your piece/peace may fit my puzzled life..and vice versa.  It’s electric.  Contagious.  The only way Triumph becomes ineffective and stale is through silence.  So, don’t neglect to tell the story….

Short Story: Love Cycle

My first short story ever, ever.  Gentle, constructive criticism welcome *smile*.

“Jessica!  Jessie, I know you’re in there!”

Lights out, blinds closed, Jessica sits motionless in the corner behind the door, clenching a wad of her long, black hair in both fists.  Her forearms hide her baggy eyes, but the tear drops splattered across Niagara Falls expose her devastation.  Jessica forgets nothing, not even the souvenir shop where he’d bought the sweatshirt.  Jason told her then, “You’ll get more wear and tear out of it than I will.”

“Jessieeee!  Jessie, please open up!”

Jason pounds the door with one hand.  The other stays warm in his pocket grabbling a small package, a new Metro card, and his car keys.  He stops a moment to rest an ear against the door, holding what little breath he has left to hear the slightest sound of life inside — his life inside.

The frigid temperatures have been cruel to him on an already wickedly cruel night.  First, a stalled car.  Next, the midnight Metro Bus to Union Park gone.  And now, the more he bites his lips, the more Jack Frost seems to crack them open. His only salvation to reach her tonight was the ride.  Thank goodness for the ride!  He purposed to return the favor to the Wymm family, show appreciation for the ram in the bush.

Thirty-seven minutes into her resistance, Jessica’s mind grows weary of hyperactive questions with no clear, honest answers.  “What in the world was he thinking?”  “Why would he do something so stupid?”  “How could he break his promise?”  “When will I ever be able to trust him again?”

And then, a question picks the lock on a secret place in her heart, crashing her pity party.

“Didn’t he promise never to make a mistake?!”

Holding and rocking herself, Jessica winces not only at the question’s absurdity, but at the only answer that is both clear and honest.

“Did I ever promise to do the same?”

“Jessieee!”

Jessica crawls to her feet, carefully peeks through the living room blinds, then leans against the wall with more questions.  “Strange. Where’s the old Honda? How’d he…”

“Jessica, c’mon!”

She peeks again and surveys the quiet street in vain for an accomplice hiding in a parked car.
At first, her swollen eyes squint right past it.  Finally, over in the grass where the driveway and sidewalk intersect, she sees it; an old bicycle lays on its side.  “He didn’t. He didn’t.”

Jessica’s heart sinks as she calculates the distance from Jason’s house to hers, plus late-October temperatures in Buffalo.  She realizes the entire night could be summed up as simple as this: after two years, she still has a lot to learn about Jason’s heart, and more importantly — her own.

Jessica almost didn’t recognize the sudden silence.  The yelling and pounding stopped, as if synchronized with the blue and white lights now circling her living room walls. “Oh no, the neighbors!”  Jessica scrambles to the door, fumbles through the locks, and swings the door open to rush Jason inside.  She’s too late.

Jason glares a hole into the police car hood, where his hands remain in plain sight.  “How could she call the police?”  Over in the grass, the officer lifts the bicycle, examines it, and lays it back down.  “This your bike, sir?”

“No, officer.  I can explain. See, first of all, I love that woman inside, and…uhh…I was halfway here for our big night…on time mind you…when my battery died…that’s my Civic back on Elmwood…did you come Elmwood?”

Police dispatch interrupts the officer’s next question.  He motions Jason to continue as he returns a ten-code into his shoulder mic.

Jason presses his story, unaware of Jessica’s approach.

“Anyway, I missed the last Metro…it was cold…and…umm…I saw this old bike laying in the bushes near a mailbox on 3rd, and…I knew for sure my prayers were answered…I rushed right over here…and I…”

“It’s ok, ma’am.  I’m going to have to ask you to stand there.” The officer shines his light on Jessica, and continues communication with dispatch.

Jason didn’t know whether to smile or cry, eyes fixed on Jessica in his favorite sweatshirt.

“…I…I promise I was going to bring the bike back in the morning…”

“Is there a problem, officer?  This is my boyfriend.”

“..It’s not like I’m some kind of bike thief or anything….thought maybe they were throwing it away, but…”

The officer ends transmission with dispatch. “Riight. OK. Look son, I would love to hear more about your undying love and bad luck, but the owners don’t want to press charges, they just want their bike back.  Some story about their grandfather rode it across two counties to propose to their grandmother.”

The officer directs Jason and Jessica to the bicycle, and picks it up by the handle bars.

“See here?  Wymm. Will. You. Marry.  Me.  That’s extreme sentimental value, son…and lucky for you, eh? Why don’t you give me a hand.”

Jason and the officer maneuver the bike’s wheels to fit neatly in the trunk.

“Looks like you couldn’tve picked a better bike to borrow.  But don’t press your luck, understand?”

“Understood, sir.”

The officer’s right turn signal disappears from view as Jason and Jessica walk back to the house arm-in-arm.  Jason reaches into his pocket to find the small package.

“Jessie, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you all night.”

Jessica places her finger on Jason’s lips and smiles.

“The bicycle said it all.”

Copyright (c) 2008-2009. ashe.selah.  All rights reserved.